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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827431">Bang Bang</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted'>sunaddicted</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>007 Games Fics 2k20 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:06:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose, innerly scowling at his smudged lenses that forced him to squint almost as badly as if he hadn't been wearing them in the first place. It was an old enough engraving, it had gotten slightly chipped away with wear as if James carried it with him - or had done so at some point, whether out of superstition or habit Q wasn't sure.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Bond/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>007 Games Fics 2k20 [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>007 Fest Fancreations</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bang Bang</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt 13 from the Anonymous Prompt Exchange (2020): Bond has a bullet with his name on it. Literally. Q finds out</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Bang Bang</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Contrary to popular belief that wanted him to infringe on people's privacy because of professional deformation, Q wasn't the kind of person who usually felt the urge to snoop and put his nose where it didn't belong when it came to people interacting with him in his private life. Keeping relationships honest and open was difficult enough when being a spy, Q had no intentions of making things more complicated </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> infringing on people's rights to have lives of their own that he wasn't supposed to be privy to - of course, sometimes, the temptation was there: he was only human afterall and one who had a tendency to work himself up into fits of paranoia and jealousy at that.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he resisted the urge - Q viciously stomped on it everytime it raised its ugly head and physically tore himself away from any electronics until the moment of weakness faded away, leaving him feeling better for putting up a fight against the monster that dwelled in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q knew he was a good man.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also knew that sometimes he had to put an effort to keep himself one; he knew that plenty of people didn't realise how being good was a constant exercise, not some kind of inborn character trait that resisted the strain of pressure that  a world full of ugliness and horrors put on everyone’s shoulders - plainly put, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard</span>
  </em>
  <span> and yes, Q had no shame about patting himself on the back whenever the better side of him came up victorious: it wasn’t narcissism, rather the mere recognition of his own efforts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That morning, he hadn’t exactly caved in - he hadn’t been snooping through James’ drawers on purpose. The dryer had just spit the latest batch of fresh laundry out and while they hadn’t officially moved in, Q spent plenty of time at the other’s flat and it wasn’t unusual for him to wash a couple of his things together with James’ or shamelessly raid his fridge whenever he pulled a coding all-nighter; it only seemed like the nice thing to do to at least fold and put away James’ laundry while the man was under the shower - as a silent sign of gratitude. Not that James probably wanted any actual gratitude for such things but still, Q hadn’t been raised by wolves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he was putting away a rather colourful collection of briefs - he hadn’t had any shame in telling James that the lavender pair was his favourite - when his knuckle had bumped into something cold and vaguely metallic; his first thought had been that he had stumbled upon some kind of sextoy, carefully stashed away and, being the man’s partner, Q had wanted to have a look because… well, because what if it was something they could integrate in their sexlife that James had been reluctant to talk about? Surprisingly, the agent could be rather reticent about what he enjoyed in the bedroom, more focused on pleasuring rather than receiving pleasure - Q was working on it but it would take time, especially since he suspected James’ attitude came from years of honeypot missions one after the other where what mattered wasn’t his own enjoyment of the act but getting the mark to mellow and lower their barriers until they spilled their secrets or, at least, decided to aid him in whatever capacity they could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, it turned out it wasn’t a sextoy but a bullet - a real one of the kind that got loaded into a gun and was shot at people with the intent of seriously harming them, if not killing them. And he could have easily left it at that but since his partner had the unfortunate habit of stealing whatever he got his hands on whenever he visited Q-Branch, he wanted to check what exactly the other man had managed to sneak out to figure out which drawers and cabinets needed better locks so that James couldn’t get his nasty thieving fingers into them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, it was the other's fault if Q had ended up snooping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned when he felt a slight roughness under the pad of his thumb, some kind of marking that he didn't recognize: it wasn't exactly the smart thing to do, to make a secret agency's bullets recognisable and easily traceable - it would be asking for trouble, plain and simple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q's curiosity was only rising. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed the glasses further up the bridge of his nose, innerly scowling at his smudged lenses that forced him to squint almost as badly as if he hadn't been wearing them in the first place. It was an old enough engraving, it had gotten slightly chipped away with wear as if James carried it with him - or had done so at some point, whether out of superstition or habit Q wasn't sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was even less sure about why his partner had a bullet with his own name engraved on it. There were so many question swirling in his mind, some louder than others - more pressing, insisting for him to find answers that he simply couldn't give without asking James himself why he owned such a peculiar and vaguely morbid trinket. Had someone given it to James?; had he found it staying somewhere around in some villain's lair?; had he commissioned it himself - and 8f he had, for what reason would he shoot someone with a bullet bearing his own name? Sure, the man didn't worry one bit about giving out his real name to everyone and their mothers but embedding his identity into someone's corpse… that sounded reckless even for James.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you ok?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn't doing anything wrong, Q reminded himself - still, he jumped at the sound of the other's voice out of the blue as if he had been caught doing something absolutely scandalous "Yeah?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>James arched an eyebrow "Yeah? You don't sound so sure of that" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah" he confirmed, voice firmer, and he held up his hand trying to focus on the other's face rather than on James' naked torso, beaded with droplets of water that the towel hadn't managed to catch before it had been slung around the other's hips - rather dangerously low, not that Q would mind it if the feeble knot came undone and the towel fell to reveal the rest of James' body; they didn't have the time for a shag before work but that didn't mean that he couldn't admire, right? Looking cost nothing "What's this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I sure hope you know, considering you handle plenty of those in your everyday life" James teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I meant why is this bullet engraved with your name?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's a better question" the agent hummed as he turned around to face the closet in search of something to wear; he usually slipped into his perfectly tailored suits even to loiter around MI6, faking the compiling of reports, but that day he had one training session after the other scheduled with some of his colleagues and it didn't seem reasonable to walk into the agency wearing a tight jacket and a tie when he could opt for a loose fitting shirt and a sweater over his usual dark slacks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So?" Q prompted when it seemed that his partner had gotten lost in his own thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not from my days as an agent"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that was surprising "You got it when you were in the Navy?" It seemed… too dramatic and theatrical for something as clinical and structured as the Navy, where the enemy usually was a military branch from another country rather than some kind of deranged villain with a fondness for over-elaborate lairs and long-winded speeches that went on and on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A colleague of mine got it for me when I made it to Commander" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What for?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't want to get a tattoo like the other guys" James shrugged, sending Q a smile over his shoulder as he buttoned up his shirt "I always knew there would be something more in my future than just the Navy and I didn't want to make myself even more recognisable with ink. Of course, they tried to goad me into it again and again - it's tradition, afterall. They gave up after a while but my colleague still thought I should have something to mark my promotion and in his mind, a bullet engraved with my name was the next best thing" the story was far less interesting than the trinket in itself, James was aware of that, but he remembered the gift fondly and he was sure it was evident that he had carried it around for quite a bit, evidently attached to the piece of metal.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's a nice memory"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It really is"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q put the bullet back in its place together with the freshly laundered briefs, keeping only a pair out "Have you kept in contact with him?" He inquired, handing over the other man the underwear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, unfortunately"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I could track him down if you want?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The offer was… tempting - James wasn't going to deny that, but he always felt wary about going digging into the past, a part of him terrified about what he would find if he looked a little too deeply into what he had left behind to live its own lives at his shoulders "No, thank you. But I appreciate the offer" he murmured as he leaned in, lips brushing against his partner's brow "Now go get a shower, you curious minx"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you mad?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"About you finding the bullet - why? You were just putting the laundry away, you didn't go snooping"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't" Q reassured, leaning in for another kiss "Thank you for telling me"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Anytime"</span>
</p>
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